Ten days of Vipassana and the discipline of remaining equanimous with sensation
The Starting Line
In February 2017, I arrived at my first ten-day Vipassana retreat just after my first year living abroad.
I was hungover. I had been eating badly. My mind was restless and loud.
Almost ten years later, I arrived for my tenth retreat in a very different way.
Before switching off my phone, I sent messages to my clients and my accountant.
I closed what needed to be closed.
I wrote down my plans for 2026 and deliberately put them away.
That was my starting line.
Not a new vision.
Not a better strategy.
A decision to return to the beginning.
To start again from day zero.
To follow the simple, but not easy, path of observing reality as it is.
My intention was not insight.
It was to practice, patiently and consistently, with awareness and equanimity.
The Path
This time, I sat in the United States.
For the first time, I was practicing Vipassana in my home country.
Across the ten days, a small group of words kept appearing in my mind:
presence,
sensation,
subtle sensation,
surrender,
ego,
crash,
cruising,
integration.
One theme became very clear.
What I once searched for as “highs” and “breakthroughs” no longer felt important.
Earlier in my practice, I believed progress meant finding something special.
A powerful experience.
A clear answer.
A feeling that I had finally understood.
Now I see the work more simply.
It is like brushing your teeth.
Ordinary.
Repetitive.
Not something you talk about very much.
But essential.
At the same time, it cannot be reduced to checking a box.
It must be done with awareness.
One instruction from the teacher stayed with me.
It does not matter how good the meditation feels.
What matters is equanimity.
For me, this was an important correction.
Experiences will change.
Clarity may appear and disappear.
The mind may feel calm one day and agitated the next.
The work is not to improve the experience.
The work is to remain balanced with whatever sensation is present,
pleasant or unpleasant, gross or subtle.
To notice reaction, and not feed it.
The Finish Line
When the schedule disappears, the real work begins.
Back in daily life, everything returns at once.
Noise.
Movement.
Screens.
Conversations.
Choice.
On the first day out, I felt it clearly in the body.
A strong headache.
Tension.
A sense of overload.
Nothing was wrong.
It was simply the contrast.
A crowded train.
Broken lines.
People frustrated and impatient.
Voices, announcements, vibrations, heat.
This is where the practice must continue.
Not by trying to create silence.
Not by trying to stay calm.
But by observing what is actually happening in the body, moment by moment.
Pleasant sensations will arise.
Unpleasant sensations will arise.
Liking and disliking will arise.
My task is not to manage them.
My task is not to suppress them.
My task is not to make anything last longer or disappear faster.
It is only to observe sensation, and to remain equanimous.
I will continue my daily sittings, morning and evening.
Not to maintain a routine, but to support awareness.
In daily life, I will keep watching reactions as they appear in the body.
Craving when something feels pleasant.
Aversion when something feels uncomfortable.
I will not measure progress by how peaceful the day feels,
or how disciplined I believe I was.
I will measure it only by one thing:
Did I notice sensation, and did I remain balanced with it?
That is enough.
One Way Grit 